


Ducktales Season 1 Extras

by thenotso_ultiwrit



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:43:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23801620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenotso_ultiwrit/pseuds/thenotso_ultiwrit
Summary: Without any plans for how this will go, I'm just going to post these bits of story that may or may not have happened behind the scenes.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 60





	1. Woo-oo

**Author's Note:**

> So, I’ve kind of been in a creative slump for my other story, An Unlikely Duo. I’ve read that the best way to get over a slump is to try to clear your plate with a new project for a while. So, I decided to write a series of extra things to happen in each episode. These events can happen before, during, or after each episode.

Webby was crawling through the vents in McDuck manor, as she usually did in her free time. She passed over one of the grates when she’d heard voices outside of it. Looking through, she saw her grandmother following Scrooge McDuck, who had pushed three kids around her age into one of the many unused rooms around the manor. She couldn’t quite hear what they were saying but she saw her grandmother lock the door, effectively trapping the three inside, before walking away. As soon as she was gone, Webby jumped out of the vents, running over to the door to listen in.

“So, we’re totally ditching this room, right?” she heard from inside.

 _“Good luck with that.”_ Webby thought. _“There’s no way Granny would lock you in a room that you can get out of.”_

“Yep, and I know just how to do it.” Another voice declared, making Webby grin at their foolishness. She was going to walk away, right up until she heard a bang on the door, the impact shaking the knob.

“Maybe, just in case, I should stand guard.” She ran to her room nearby to grab a whip.

* * *

Glomgold ordered some of his men to use staple removers in order to remove staples from the wall to free Donald Duck. Donald couldn’t help but wonder out loud why Glomgold would hire him. When he’d come to interview him, he was found stapled against a wall by himself. And all of it was on camera. He voiced his question to one of the men who were currently helping him down.

“He needed a sailor, and your credentials speak for you.” he declared, pulling out a file marked “Confidential”. “You served in all four military branches, retired from the Army with the rank of Buck Sergeant because you refused to be promoted higher because and I quote, ‘I’m not going to sit in a room with you palookas ordering other people to risk their lives.’ I’ve also read some of the less… believable stuff in your file. For example, I don’t believe your old enough to have been a spy in World War II.” Donald laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his now free hand.”

“It’s a long story involving time travel.” Donald explained vaguely.

“It’s all in here. The boss had to pull some serious strings to get the full file.” The man said, pulling the final staple off the wall, allowing Donald to fall to the floor, hitting his head on the hard tile as it happened. “Frankly, I feel like some of this stuff might be a bit embellished.

“Possibly. It doesn’t matter. I wanted the job as an accountant, but my bank account isn’t really picky at the moment.” The other employee chuckled, handing the file and the sailor suit to Donald.

“Okay, well, the boss said the path to Atlantis is only going to be open for a few days, so your first expedition starts in two hours. Get your affairs in order, get dressed, and meet with the team at the docks by then.” The man left promptly, the more quiet employee following along with him. Donald sighed, pulling out his phone and making a call to his uncle.

“Hello?” Scrooge answered.

”Hi, Uncle Scrooge. There’s been a change of plans. My job’s going to take me away from Duckburg for a little while. I need you to watch the boys for a couple more days. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is, the boys are tons of fun and they’re getting along well with Webbigail.” Scrooge answered.

“Who?”

“Mrs. Beakley’s granddaughter,” Scrooge clarified.

“I didn’t know she even had kids.”

“Don’t ask about it.” Scrooge warned wistfully.

“I’ll call you later and give you necessary details.


	2. Escape To/From Atlantis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one was much longer, mainly because I enjoy writing action scenes and I had more to work with.

After Louie hung up the phone, Donald looked around to his coworkers. He wasn’t sure how long he wanted to work as a sailor again, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t try to get along with the others. He walked toward the brothers, Hack and Slash Smashnikov.

“So, what are your names?” he asked, only hearing their names bunched together.

“I’m Hack,” the short one with glasses said, extending his hand for a handshake, which Donald returned.

“I’m Slash,” the tall one said, also shaking Donald’s hand.

“So, do you have any other family?” Donald asked politely.

“We were abandoned at an orphanage in Moscow when we were two, which we were kicked out of a few years later.” Hack answered, hoping his intense answer would end Donald’s questioning.

“That’s terrible,” Donald commented. “Why would they do that?”

“Nothing anyone could prove.” Slash answered. “It doesn’t matter. The orphanage burned down in a mysterious fire after a week.” He turned his head to Donald and looked directly in his eyes. “There were no witnesses.” Donald took this as his hint to leave them alone. Instead, he figured he should try to talk to Gabby McStabberson.

* * *

Dewey wanted to pass the time, so he set up a wooden box in the middle of the sub and propped his arm up, challenging his brother sitting across from him. Huey groaned.

“Can’t we do a thumb war instead?” Dewey shook his head. “Fine.” Huey propped his arm as well, interlocking with Dewey’s hand. Louie walked over and did the countdown.

“Three…two…one…go!” Louie shouted, and the arm wrestle began. Dewey won in a second, slamming Huey’s hand down on the crate. “The winner and undefeated arm-wrestling champion, Dewey!” Louie held up Dewey’s arm, acting as a professional sports announcer. Huey rubbed the back of his hand. Dewey didn’t know how to control his strength, so he hit his hand on the box full force.

“What are you guys doing?” Webby asked, only watching until now.

“Killing time by arm-wrestling.” Dewey answered.

“What’s arm-wrestling?”

“It’s pretty much two people try to push the other person’s hand all the way down.” Huey answered. “And Dewey always wins against us.”

“Once against both of them.” Dewey added. “They tried both pushing my hand down at the same time, but it didn’t work.”

“Can I try?” Webby asked politely.

“Sure.” Dewey said, sitting next to the crate again, Webby on the other side. “I could use a challenge.” They locked their hands together.

“Keep in mind, your elbow cannot leave the surface of the table. If you move it, it’s a forfeit.” Huey warned. “Okay, three…two…one…go!” before anyone could blink, Webby pushed Dewey’s hand down so fast that she accidentally pulled Dewey down too, making him fall on the ground. Louie was surprised but played his part anyway.

“First-time player and now undefeated arm-wrestling champion, Webby!” Louie announced, holding up Webby’s arm, who seemed to have to stop herself from attacking Louie out of reflex.

“Rematch?” Dewey requested, holding up his arm from the floor. “I wasn’t prepared for-for that.” He sat back up and put his arm back on.

“How about all three?” Webby requested. “If you could win a two-on-one, I should try three against me.” Louie and Huey looked at each other uncertainly but took seats next to Dewey’s anyway. All three hands were stacked, ready to push all together. Webby grasped all three. Louie started the countdown again, this time very hesitantly.

“Three…two…one…go?” all three pushed as hard as they could, but couldn’t budge Webby’s hand, who just smiled sweetly and pushed again, slamming all three on the crate. Louie fell this time, being closest to the edge when they had lost. “I vote no more arm-wrestling, Like ever.”

“Seconded.” Huey agreed, his hand still hurting.

* * *

Scrooge balances his cane on his fingertip, trying to keep himself busy as well, but even he had to admit that he was starting to get bored. He started wondering if maybe he should have taken the more direct course but settled on the safety of the long way. Putting his cane down, he looked out the window, seeing the various shades of blue painting the underwater atmosphere. It was a fine sight to behold, but he felt as though something was missing. Hearing a yawn, he looked back to see the red triplet waking from his nap.

“Lad, could you join me for a moment?” Scrooge requested. Huey stood next to him, looking out the window.

“It’s a nice seabed,” he commented. “I wish there were more fish, though.” That’s when it struck Scrooge. The course he planned should have a vast array of marine life. Looking out the window, however, there was none. Not even the smallest shrimp floating by. Then, he felt it. A large tremor rocking the sub, waking the other three ducklings as well.

“That is not a good sign.” Scrooge commented, veering out the window, joined by Dewey while Huey, Webby, and Louie looked out the other window.

“Is there supposed to be a giant octopus tentacle outside the window?” Louie asked, making Scrooge panic slightly.

“I think that might be a squid tentacle.” Huey argued, not relieving Scrooge’s anxiety. “That shadow over there looks more like a squid head than an octopus head.” Scrooge looked over and there was indeed a giant shadow stretching far over the seafloor, and the point at the top implied that it was indeed a squid, but he knew better. The sub shook again, much more violently this time, making all five of the standing ducks lose their footing.

“Are we being attacked by a giant squid?” Louie asked hysterically.

“That’s no squid.” Scrooge interjected. “That, children, is the kraken.” He quickly picked up Dewey and Webby, putting them in their seats and strapping their seatbelts tightly. Huey and Louie followed his lead, strapping themselves in as well. Scrooge ran to the controls, pushing Launchpad away.

“Arming torpedoes,” a voice announced, surprising all the passengers.

“I thought you said this sub didn’t have any weapons!” Dewey complained.

“No, I said it doesn’t have buzzsaw arms, sonic cannons, or hyper-dense zero-point energy missiles!” Scrooge recapped, trying to aim on a small screen in front of him. “Now hang on, this is going to be close!” Violently, he turned the sub, shaking the position of the kraken latched onto the sub. With the best timing he could, he launched two torpedoes at a nearby rock formation, blasting it apart. At first, it seemed like Scrooge had missed his mark, causing the kids to start screaming in terror as they heard the sub’s exterior give way to the tentacles’ vice-grip, when a huge boulder abruptly fell from above, hitting the kraken in the head. Its grip loosened, Scrooge tried to run the engines full speed, hoping it was enough, but the tentacles held on still, the monster dazed. Luckily, more rocks had come down landing on the kraken again. This time, one of the smaller rocks had hit its eye, blinding it completely. Capitalizing on the opportunity, Scrooge hit the accelerator again, this time shaking the tentacles holding him down. Once they were out of the current mess, they all let out a breath none of them realized they were holding.

“So, can I be in charge of the torpedoes?” Dewey asked. Scrooge ignored him, walking to Launchpad.

“I plotted a course as far away from the kraken’s nest as possible. Why were we about to be killed by it?!” he screamed.

“I followed the path on the map.” Launchpad defended, making Dewey flinch. Once Scrooge saw the new course, he immediately looked at Dewey, remembering how he wanted to take the shortcut.

“We now have but one choice.” Scrooge announced. “We’re heading into the territory of the Children of Cthulhu.” Suddenly, a stroke of electricity shot around the sub. “What in dismal downs was that?!”

“I think the light wirings were damaged from the kraken.” Huey offered.

“Okay,” Scrooge said slowly, exasperated from the situation. “At least it should be a little easier to travel through unnoticed without the lights on.”

* * *

As the sub carefully edged forward, Huey decided to ask about the oncoming threat. “So what are these children of Cthulhu?”

“Supposedly, they’re merfolk, who were cursed by Cthulhu. Now, they drown anyone they can get their hands on, or fins as the case may be, in the name of their god.” Scrooge summarized. “I just say that if they’re merfolk, they’re probably just mutated.” Before they could discuss their adversary any further, they’d heard a noise, a small bang, sounding like metal hitting metal from the front of the sub. “You might see one in a minute.” Grabbing a high-powered flashlight, he pressed the head directly against the window and flipped it on. Once he could see in the dark-blue ocean waters, he saw a single sea monster, resembling a mermaid in shape, but looked nothing like most legends depicted them. While they had one long, fish tail, they didn’t have the bodies of ducks, or geese, or any land creature they’ve seen. He was covered head to tail in scales, sharp claws adorning his fingers. His hair was more of a mop of tentacles than any type of hair, and sharp fangs were hanging from the edge of his mouth, perfect for tearing apart flesh from bone. Hey gulped.

“Are you sure they’ll only _drown_ us?” he asked nervously. Scrooge didn’t get a chance to answer before another bang filled the room, this one louder and more drawn out than the first. “I think there might be more than one of them.”

“Ya think?!” Louie asked sarcastically, tightening the seatbelt keeping him safe in the seat.

“Launchpad!” Scrooge called, getting their pilot’s attention, “Sharp right turn! Shake them off!” Doing as he said, the larger duck jerked the controls, making the sub turn right. With the exterior lights off, it was impossible to tell if the maneuver worked, but within a few seconds, there was an even louder bang on the outside, this time forming a dent on the starboard wall. Suddenly, Louie had a terrible epiphany.

“They’re using the noise to call more over here!” Louie shouted, making the others scream.

“How are we supposed to fight these ones off without making more noise?” Scrooge complained, directing Launchpad to try and shake more merfolk off. “We can’t even see them without flashlights.”

“Wait, that gives me an idea!” Huey claimed, jumping out of his seatbelt. He ran over to a panel on the side of the submarine. Opening it, he carefully moved wires around in the wall.

“Huey! What are you doing?!” Scrooge yelled, trying to make his way to where Huey was fiddling with the sub. “You just stopped our engine!”

“I’m redirecting all of our power to the lights!” he shouted, still rewiring the sub. Once finished, he closed the panel and jumped into his seat. “Launchpad, turn on the headlights!” Realizing what Huey was planning, Scrooge jumped into a seat as well. Once the switch was flipped, a huge streak of electricity shot through the water, electrocuting anything living outside of the vehicle. Once it stopped, Scrooge looked outside the sub, taking note of the twitching children of Cthulhu, clearly still alive. He fixed the wiring that Huey had done so that the sub could move again, while switching on the backup generator.

“What just happened?” Dewey asked, confused.

“Your brother just defeated the children of Cthulhu.” Scrooge announced, smiling.

“With the damage to the outside, I just figured if all our power was redirected to the headlights, then we could zap everything out there.”

“But how did you know how to rewire the sub?” Webby asked.

“I’ve studied submarine designs for a Junior Woodchuck badge a couple months ago. This just happened to be one of the models I found.”

“They include submarine design for the Junior Woodchucks now?” Scrooge asked

“No, Huey’s just an overachiever.” Louie answered. “Anyway, what’s next?”

“With any luck, we can slip through this gap in the islands and get back to the original path.” Scrooge answered honestly. Suddenly, the submarine stopped moving. Scrooge looked at the power gauge for the backup generator and noticed it was at zero. “Plan B.” He pushed a button on the controls and four sets of bicycle pedals sprung out of the ground in front of the seats. “We’re going to have to manually build up power for the sub while trying to move.” He directed the sub’s controls to rise as they move, while the four ducklings started to use the manual pedals to build up power. Once the sub resurfaced, Launchpad climbed through the hatch, grabbing a roll of duct tape on the way out.

“I’m going to start fixing the wiring for the lights.” He announced.

“You cannae fix a submarine with only tape.” Scrooge complained, still driving the sub, but left it alone. Hopefully, Launchpad would realize it soon enough.

* * *

As the four ducklings continued to build power, Scrooge continued navigating the sub. After about an hour, Launchpad climbed down the hatch, soaking wet from wading around in the water.

“All done.” He announced. “The lights should be working fine now.” Scrooge was about to tell him that there was no way that he’d been able to fix the lights on a moving submarine in the middle of the ocean, but he felt the sub rock harder than before. Looking out the window, he’d noticed the sky was now a dark shade of grey, covered fully in heavy storm clouds.

“Curse me kilts,” he groaned. “The storm elemental must have moved farther south,”

“Storm elemental?!” Louie exclaimed, “What the heck is that?”

“A monster made completely of storm clouds,” Webby defined. “It can control the weather and by extension, the oceans.”

“How are we supposed to get away from that?!” Louie yelled, tightening his seatbelt once again.

“We can’t,” Scrooge answered ominously. He sat down in his own seat, buckling down. “We can only hope that he won’t have any interest in us and let us pass by peacefully.” Immediately after he said that, the sub violently jerked upward. Outside the window, they saw what looked like a blue glow in a dark grey mist. It took only a moment for a realization to set in, the realization that they were looking into the eye of a storm elemental. “Or, I could start rewriting my will now, so everything goes to Mrs. Beakley. Hopefully, she won’t bring me back from the dead to kill me again for whatever happens to Webbigail.” For a while, the eye looked through the window, inspecting the passengers before shifting toward the front of the sub. Jumping up, Dewey ran over to the controls and flipped the switch for the headlights, shining them directly into the elemental’s eye, blinding it slightly.

They heard a loud roar from the elemental, who jerked the sub away from his face, making all the passengers scream. He threw the sub as far away as he could, not paying attention to which way they went. Luckily, they’d landed through a wave created by the storm, slowing their descent heavily. Still, their landing was rough, sending the one duckling out of his seat flying. Dewey screamed as he went from one side of the sub to the other. Scrooge acted fast, using his cane to catch the boy clothed in blue. Once he landed, he undid his seatbelt and walked to the middle of the room, trying to catch his breath from screaming, same as the ducklings, but just collapsed onto the floor.

“How did you know that wouldn’t short circuit the ship again?” Scrooge asked.

“Launchpad said he fixed it,” Dewey answered simply.

“And why did you think it was a good idea to anger a force of nature?”

“It was better than waiting for it to kill us.” Dewey answered.

“Agh, you kids will be the death of me,” Scrooge groaned, getting up to adjust the map. Dewey missed the point of his statement and sat up.

“Dewey! _Dewey_ will be the death of you!”

* * *

Beakley waited for Webby to answer the phone, fully expecting another blatant lie. She recalled the first one where she’d flat-out shrieked, “Hi, Granny, I’m spending the night at a friend’s house, so nothing is wrong!” and hung up. Then the next one where she’d said that her friend’s name was, “Sub…ina. A totally real name for a definitely real person,” and again hung up before she could be questioned. She was disappointed that her granddaughter was lying to her, but if it wasn’t her that she was lying to, she’d be disappointed at the quality of the lies. If she’d created cover stories half as bad during her time in SHUSH, she would have been captured a dozen times over. The phone beeped, signaling that someone answered.

“Hello, Webby, just checking in with your sleepover at your friend Subina’s house,” Webby didn’t address her question and immediately went to her cover-up.

“Oh, look! Uncle Hampus is and he only speaks Swedish.”

“Oh, really?” Mrs. Beakley rubbed her forehead, not even believing that was the lie Webby improvised. Once she returned from her underwater sea expedition, she was going to have to give her lessons on making cover stories.

“We don’t want to be rude, so goodbye?” She heard one of Donald’s nephews telling her there was no way she could back up that lie. At least someone’s giving her lessons on dishonesty. Then she heard a deep scream, assumably from someone in their thirties, before a thud, giving her the assumption that he’d fallen nearby. He’d grabbed the phone and spoke Swedish. Bentina’s Swedish was rough, but she could roughly understand the statement.

“ _Oh, hello, Beakley. Subina has told me so much about you over fish balls.”_ She was caught off-guard by the fact that there was someone there who could make Webby’s story seem more plausible. Regardless, there was a fault in his statement that she could exploit. She had to think a little before she could reply, also in Swedish.

_“That’s odd. I’ve never met Subina,”_ she replied, seemingly catching him in the lie before she’d realized that he’d already hung up. Even if that last one worked out somewhat, she was still going to have to give Webby lessons is creating cover stories, since it was an excellent tool in anyone’s line of work.

* * *

Webby immediately reacted after Glomgold ordered his lackies to attack. “Quick! Hand me a sword!” She dodged the first swing from Gabby McStabberson.

“We don’t have any.” Louie answered, trying to keep his distance from Slash Smashnikov.

“Then, a dagger?” Louie shook his head. “Sickle? Butter knife? Spoon?”

“Who would bring a spoon?” Huey exclaimed, trying to draw Slash’s attention away from his younger brother.

“Fine, I’ll improvise,” Webby grabbed a broken brick from the ground, holding it defensively in front of her chest.

“You think you can best me with a brick?!” Gabby yelled, insulted. “I was trained by warrior monks since birth. I’ve trained extensively to have the skills necessary to find my family.” She threw a handful of throwing knives at Webby. Without blinking, she deflected each knife that would otherwise connect with the brick.

“Yeah, well I was trained by my granny, the housekeeper,” Webby countered, “and she’s not very nice, even though she’s the world’s best grandma!” Gabby wielded her scimitar in one hand, and a sai in the other. She swung her scimitar in a wide arc, making Webby backflip away, before trying to strike an opening with her sai. Webby predicted it, however, deflecting the sai away from her. She threw the brick at Gabby’s face, who was barely able to bring her sai in front of it. The maneuver stopped the brick, but the projectile hit her fingers, making her lose her grip on the sai. Webby grabbed another brick and tried to jab it into Gabby’s ribs, but she predicted the attack, backing just out of the short girl’s reach. Webby switched hands, making sure the brick was extending away from her thumb and tried for a back-handed swing, but Gabby caught her wrist, stopping the attack, and raised her sword for a finishing blow. Webby dropped the brick, catching it in her free hand and rammed it into her adversary’s ribs as hard as she could, making a couple of the warrior monk’s ribs crack. Gabby’s grip on Webby loosened and the little girl ripped her wrist away. Looking at her hand, the brick she was holding had crumbled, clearly not suitable for combat. Gabby recovered as much as she could, swinging at Webby, but the pain in her sides was too great, making her aim too high, just barely passing over Webby’s head. Still, she tried for a follow-up swing as Webby flipped forward to the side. She back flipped again as her swing had finished. While Gabby was hunched over, Webby landed on her back, pulling her hair and making her drop her sword. Gabby couldn’t keep her balanced anymore, falling forward and hitting her head, making her dizzy.

_“Okay, maybe this girl has some skill,”_ Gabby thought to herself as she struggled to get back up.

* * *

**(A/N: This one probably didn’t happen, but I thought it was cool when it was in my head.)**

Once the passengers of the sub escaping Atlantis had gotten up from the dogpile, Gabby immediately pointed her scimitar at the group in front of her, once again wielding her sai in her other hand.

“Hack, Slash, now that we escaped, let’s take the sub,” she ordered, her allies standing next to her. “You can hand over control peacefully, or we can throw you all overboard.”

“Ya think you can just jump into out sub to escape a collapsing city and just take my sub?!” Scrooge exclaimed, grabbing his cane for the fight.

“Uncle Scrooge, sit down.” Donald said, standing up and cracking his knuckles. “I’ll take care of these palookas.” This statement both surprised and scared his nephews, who have never known their uncle to fight. Scrooge looked at his nephew, smiled, and sat down in his seat.

“Uncle Donald, they’re three trained assassins!” Huey emphasized. “We know how you can get when you’re angry, but there’s no way you can take them on your own.”

“Huey, sit down next to Uncle Scrooge.” Donald ordered calmly, his anger just barely audible under his words. “Dewey, Louie, and Webby, too.”

“Don’t worry, lads.” Scrooge reassured them, pulling all of them into their seats. “He might be rusty at adventuring, but he can take these three deadbeats.” All the kids sat down, unsure of what would happen. The kids and Launchpad might have been able to beat them, but they had higher numbers and they were underestimated.

Hack grabbed a nearby crowbar and swung it at Donald, who ducked under it and, in a single blink of an eye, had his fist firmly embedded in the side of his muzzle, making the smallest mercenary stumble backwards. Slash and Gabby ran forward, trying to hit Donald as well, but Donald was too fast, dodging under Gabby’s scimitar and headbutting Slash in his ribs, making him fall back against his brother, Letting out his anger fully, Donald let out a loud, angry yell and ran toward Gabby, dodging to the side of her sword. Hack had gotten up and tried to punch Donald, but instead Donald had redirected his fist, hitting Gabby’s already cracked ribs and making her yelp in pain. Gabby tried to swing at Donald again, but he dodged under it again and kicked Hack away and stopped Gabby’s next swing of her scimitar, catching her wrist and pushing it down. She tried to follow up with her sai, but Donald caught that as well and stopped it, grabbing both her hand and the weapon and locking her other wrist within the side prong of it. Now able to use his other hand and holding Gabby defenseless in the other, he raised his fist as if to hit Gabby, but stopped himself. Instead, he pushed her back against the wall while Slash tried to hit him again. Donald stopped him, however, and instead pushed him into Gabby as she freed herself from her own sai. Hack jumped on Donald, trying to pin him on the floor, but Donald picked him up and threw him into Gabby and Slash, leaving all three crumbled into a heap on the floor.

Donald dusted off his hands, turning around to shocked faces of his nephews, the excited fangirl look of Webby, and the proud smirk of his uncle. “What?”

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Dewey asked, flabbergasted by the skill of his uncle.

“My dad, partially, and Uncle Scrooge, and the army, the navy, the marines, the air force, a couple guerilla gorillas, and my mom.” He answered simply. “Anyway, let’s throw these guys overboard.”

“You didn’t even hit the girl,” Louie noticed. “You kind of just made the others hit her.”

“Louie, let me make this clear. If you can avoid it, you _never_ seriously hit a woman.” Donald warned. “It’s just not right.” He looked at Huey and Dewey, who were also trying to process what happened. “The same goes for you two. If I ever broke this rule, my mom and dad would come back from the dead to make me pay for it.”

“Wait, when were you in the army? Or the marines? The air force? Navy?!” Huey questioned at rapid-fire, realizing how little about his uncle he actually knew.

“Long story.” Before he could elaborate on his statement, Launchpad announced that they were approaching Duckburg. Scrooge grabbed the jewel of Atlantis and climbed through the hatch.

* * *

“Can you believe we actually get our own rooms?” Dewey asked happily, bringing a half-zipped blue suitcase of clothes into his new room. He picked a room close to the living room, so that he could wake up early and watch cartoons.

“I know!” Huey agreed, carrying his neatly packed suitcase to his room on the east side of the mansion. He picked it out specifically so the sun can wake him up in the morning. “I’ll be able to do so much with the extra space.”

“And I’ll finally not have to worry about you guys keeping me up at night.” Louie remarked, directing Launchpad holding his suitcase toward a room on the west side of the mansion, picking it so he wouldn’t have any sunlight waking him up too early in the morning.

“Speaking of which, why don’t you all try to get some sleep? You’ve had a busy day today.” Donald remarked. Louie immediately headed toward his room on the other side while Dewey tried to argue.

“Oh, come on,” he complained, “I’m not even…” he tried to stifle a yawn, “…tired.”

“He’s right, Dewey.” Huey said, looking at his watch. “It’s almost nine o’clock. The Junior Woodchuck Guidebook suggests the optimal time for ducks our age is about a half hour ago.” Dewey grumbled, walking into his room and closing the door. Huey took his suitcase and walked toward his room a little farther away.

Once he stepped inside, he couldn’t help but appreciate the quiet of the room, looking at the atmosphere. It was a bit dusty, but it hadn’t been lived in at all. It was almost expected, really. He put his bag next to the spare dresser in the room and laid down on the bed, which luckily had some new sheets, courtesy of Mrs. Beakley. He laid down in his bed, closing his eyes. About ten minutes later, he sat up in his bed. “Why can’t I sleep?!” he complained when it suddenly dawned on him. Normally when he went to bed, he heard Dewey lightly snoring and Louie staying up late on his phone. Without the conditioned stimuli, it’ll be extra difficult to achieve REM sleep.

Dewey looked at his bed, leaving his suitcase on the floor. He decided to try for a back flip onto the mattress. He’s done this over a dozen times in the houseboat, but never managed to nail the landing. He leaned back and jumped, using his hands to push off the floor to make the final landing and landed perfectly on the bed, laying back. “Nailed it!” he exclaimed, looking at his audience… which wasn’t there. He suddenly wanted someone to be in the room with him.

Louie laid on his bed, playing a game on his phone until he was ready to fall asleep. He was about to finally pass out, but suddenly felt thirsty. “Hey, Dewey, I bet you can’t get a cup of water from the kitchen without Uncle Donald noticing.” He said out loud, before the silence reminded him that he currently wasn’t capable of tricking Dewey. He sighed, getting up and was going to get the water until he heard a knock on the door. Once he opened it, he saw Huey and Louie standing outside with pillows and blankets.

“Hey, Louie,” Huey greeted, “there’s a room upstairs with a triple bunk bed. Want to bunk together?” Louie did want to, but couldn’t let them know.

“I guess I could.” He answered uncommittedly, “I mean, if you guys really need me to.” He grabbed his blanket and pillow and followed them. “Hey, Dewey, I bet you can’t make it to the kitchen and to the room before we walk there.”

“You’re on!” Dewey responded.

“Bring a cup of water to prove you made it to the kitchen.” Louie said before Dewey sprinted down the hall. Huey grinned, knowing what that meant.

“Thirsty?” Huey asked, walking up the stairs. Louie nodded. As soon as they made it to the room, Dewey was carefully rushing through the hall, holding the cup with the water in it.

“Told you I could beat you here!” Dewey claimed, presenting his cup of water to Louie.

“Wow, you sure showed me,” Louie said lazily, sipping the water.

* * *

Donald heard the commotion upstairs while he laid on the couch in the living room. He smiled, knowing his boys couldn’t go an entire night without each other. Scrooge walked in, sitting in the armchair next to the couch.

“Well, the boys seem to be settled in pretty well.” Scrooge commented, trying to make some type of small talk with his nephew.

“Yep,” Donald agreed, not wanting to be rude. He cleared his throat, deciding it best to say what he had to say now, in case he couldn’t say it later. “Uncle Scrooge, I need to thank you. You know, for letting us stay in the mansion while I fix my home. Even when I haven’t talked to you in so long.”

“Don’t think anything of it,” Scrooge said, waving off his nephew’s words. “I’m just glad we can adventure again, just like old times.”

“I won’t be adventuring,” Donald rebutted, not wanting there to be any misconceptions. “I’m retired from that,”

“Retired? You’re only forty years old.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m through with adventuring.”

“Oh, come on, lad, you had to have some type of fun in Atlantis.”

“Speaking of,” Donald sat up, turning to face his uncle, “What was the first thing I told you about watching the boys? The exact first thing?”

“That was two days ago, I can’t-”

“Don’t give me that. You know exactly what I said.” Donald rose to his feet. “I said, ‘No lies.’ And what did you do this weekend? You took my kids to a dangerous sunken city halfway across the world.”

“And they handled it perfectly well,”

“That’s not the point! I had to take a job as a sailor for a lunatic. The only comfort I had was knowing my nephews were safe in the mansion guarded by you and Mrs. B. But the second I saw you on the ship I was working on made me believe that I still couldn’t trust you. That hasn’t changed at all in the last ten years.”

“Of course, you can trust me.” Donald stared at him but didn’t say a word. Scrooge felt his own anger flare up, rising to his feet. “Well if you can’t trust me, why did you agree to letting them adventure with me?”

“That’s not the same. I know you can keep them safe and I know they can take care of themselves to an extent, but I never want you lying to me about what my nephews are up to again.”

“They’re my nephews, too,”

“No, do not say that. You spent ten years staying away from us. You know exactly where we lived. You have my number. And not once did you even pick up a phone.”

“Well, what about you?!” Scrooge countered, poking a finger at Donald’s chest. “Ten years and I haven’t seen hide nor feather of you at all!”

“Don’t give me that! We both know I’ve given you multiple phone calls every year! I’ve sent Christmas cards, birthday cards, birthday invitations! I even checked with Mrs. Beakley that you got them. But you couldn’t even be bothered to call me and say no.” Scrooge wanted to argue still, but he remembered the cards he’d gotten. While he hates being reminded of his birthday, he appreciated the cards he’d gotten. And all his anger immediately turned to guilt. “Fethry and Gladstone stopped by within a couple weeks to check on me when the triplets were born. My old college friends called me the second they heard about…” Donald trailed off, letting his anger go. Taking a deep breath, he only made one request. “Just, please. Wherever you go, tell me about it from now on. No more lies between us.” Scrooge looked away, knowing he had to keep this agreement. In all truth, he had wanted to make amends. And this would be the first step.

“No more lies,” Scrooge agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donald's fight probably didn't happen. I just thought it would be cool. Anyway, I have a bit of trouble writing drama, so I'm not sure how the one at the end went. Please comment.


	3. Daytrip of Doom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a short one. Not much could really happen off-screen. I only really got one or two ideas.

Webby followed the boys through the neighborhood to this so-called “Funzo’s,” looking around at the decrepit buildings. Most of them had broken windows or bars over the glass. She could tell the triplets felt uneasy from their surroundings, but she couldn’t tell exactly why. The area might be in need of repairs, but it didn’t exactly scream danger or anything.

“Hey, kid, how’s it goin’?” a voice asked from beside her. Glancing at the source, she noticed a tall rat in a long trench coat, hands in his pockets, walking beside her.

“I’m walking to Funzo’s,” she answered honestly, finding the rat to be friendly.

“Oh, Funzo’s, huh?” he asked, feigning interest in her plans, “Well, if you’re going there, you might need a pocket watch.” He opened one side of his trench coat, showing off a wide array of decorative pocket watches. “Are you interested in buying one?” Webby looked unsure, not really seeing the point of a pocket watch.

“I don’t know…” at this point, the rat faked disappointment, trying to guilt Webby. He closed his trench coat, hiding the watches again.

“Oh well, maybe I can save those penguins in some other way,” he mumbled loudly, pretending to walk away.

“Wait, what about penguins?” As soon as Webby said that, he came back immediately, but keeping a sad expression.

“I’m selling these pocket watches to save a colony of penguins. Their food sources are starting to deplete, meaning that they could starve if nothing’s done soon.”

“Oh, those pour little penguins!” Webby lamented, taking cash out of her backpack. “I’ll take two.”

“Oh, those cute little birds will be so grateful,” he cheered, reaching his hand out for the money.

“Webby, stop!” Huey called, stopping Webby from handing over the money. The triplets ran over, having noticed almost too late that their friend fell too far behind. “Don’t give that guy your money,”

“But if I don’t help him, those penguins will starve!” she argued. Louie caught on to what was going on and started to feign worry.

“The penguins?!” he exclaimed, “Oh, no, what are we going to do?” This made the con artist believe he’d be able to make another sale.

“It’s not too late! Even one watch sold could help them.”

“They must be starving up there in the North Pole,” Louie lamented. Webby was about to comment, but Louie cut her off. “With all the overfishing up on the northern ice caps, we haven’t left any of our cold birds even scraps.”

“Yeah, and the gases from those boats are even melting the ice caps, leaving the penguins without anywhere to stand,” the rat added, trying to maybe sell even more,”

“Oh, you sound like an expert on penguins, good sir. With the polar bears up there, they probably barely have fish to eat as it is,”

“And the bears are even hunting the penguins these days. It’s just so sad,” the con artist kept his act up, but Louie dropped his.

“Alright, are you still going to give this guy your money?” he asked Webby, who had already put her cash back in her bag, shaking her head.

“What?!” the rat exclaimed, not realizing his mistake. “But what about the starving penguins up there?”

“Penguins mostly live in the _South_ Pole,” Huey answered. “And nowhere near polar bears.”

“This neighborhood is full of guys who can’t even keep their lies straight,” Dewey added, “but I’m pretty sure most would last longer than that,” the four ducklings walked away from the humiliated con artist.

“Don’t worry about the penguins’ food, Webbs,” Huey reassured, “Most fishing companies have specific guidelines to avoid overfishing,”

“Right, I know that,” Webby acknowledged, looking at the ground, “but somehow I still almost fell for it,”

“Just a bit of emotional manipulation to goad you along the suspension of disbelief,” Louie commented, “It’s a pretty standard ploy, but unless you know what you’re looking for, it can be hard to spot,”

* * *

Huey was playing his favorite game in the arcade. Webby walked up behind him without alerting him to watch him play. To her, it just looked like a standard cartoon, since, for the most part, that’s what the graphics were: clips of cartoons.

“What are you playing?” she inquired suddenly, startling Huey and making him pick the wrong direction, causing the character onscreen to be engulfed in flames. “Sorry,”

“It’s okay, it happens a lot in this game,” Huey responded putting another token in the machine. “It’s called _Demon’s Den._ In each scene, you have to pick a choice for what to do next. If you don’t pick fast enough, or pick the wrong option, you lose and have to start over. What makes it difficult is it’s almost never obvious about what to do. You have to remember from every play before. Once you get to the end, you have to save the princess from the Demon.

“Have you ever won?”

“Not yet, but I’ll get it eventually,” Huey declared optimistically. “Once I do, I’ll have my picture put up on the wall of fame for the first player to ever win this game in the arcade!” Webby watched Huey play, and she could see exactly what Huey meant. In every room, something tried to kill him, but she couldn’t tell what it would be. And if he didn’t act fast enough, he’d get dropped down a pit of fire, or strangled by vines. And sometimes, he’d walk into a room and it would have a different way of getting through than the first time. Still, Huey had circumvented the traps skillfully, almost as a testament to how many attempts he had probably made. She did her best not to interrupt him and eventually, he’d made it to the final boss, where a demon had been waiting. He was a simple demon, shaped like a normal person, but with pointed ears and a hooked nose. He rode a winged beast, shaped like a horse but with claws and a long tail. His wings were bat-like. Webby guessed that the demon was supposed to resemble Abigor, a demon general of sorts. “This is the farthest I’ve ever gotten.”

“Go for it, Huey!” Webby cheered, watching Huey do his best to avoid the demon’s attacks, though Webby could guess that most of his dodges were basically luck. He’d managed to get close to the win, but just as he whittled down the boss’s health to the lowest point, Webby had excitedly gotten too close, bumping Huey’s arm, making him fail his dodge, causing the knight onscreen to turn to ash. “Uh, sorry?” Webby said, chuckling nervously. Huey glared briefly, before taking a deep breath.

“It’s okay, I can do it again. And I know every turn of the den. I can do this.” He reached into his token bag, before realizing a horrible truth. He overturned the bag, realizing it was empty. He’d used his last token. This caused the glare at Webby to re-emerge. She started to back away slowly, smiling sheepishly.

“I’m just gonna go now,” she turned and power walked away, hearing Huey yell in frustration.

* * *

As soon as Dewey had reestablished his high-score, he went to go check on Webby, who he’d inadvertently caused to feel sad. Sure, he no longer held all five of the high-score spots, he still managed to put himself back in his old highest-score range. And that would still prove that he was the best in the country. He found Huey sulking on his way back to their usual table.

“What’s going on, Huey?” Dewey asked, checking on his brother.

“I almost beat Demon’s Den today,” Huey said, “but at the last minute, Webby bumped my arm on accident and I died again. I was just going to play again, but it was my last token,”

“Ouch,” Dewey said sympathetically. “She accidentally erased my high-scores when Funzo grabbed her shoulder while playing. She also may or may not have injured him.”

“That had to be painful. Both the injury, and the high-scores.”

“It was like finding out I forgot to save right after dying.” This simile caused both ducks to cringe. “Anyway, now I only have two high-scores instead of five. I’ll fix that later, though,”

“You are the best in the country,” Huey said.

“Anyway, Webby took it a bit hard and I was just going to check on her. Have you seen her?”

“Not since the Demon’s Den.” They both made it to the table, where Louie was filling up his cup with Pep. “Don’t you usually fill that with fruit punch?”

“Webby caused the manager to catch Jane and I had to pay for it. Since I paid for it, no need to keep it under the water nozzle,”

“Did you tell her about plausible deniability?” Huey asked.

“I didn’t think I would have to.” Louie answered, exasperated, taking a sip.

“Either way, she’s probably feeling pretty bad after all these things happening. Let’s go check on her,” Dewey announced. “Have you seen her Louie?”

“Is that her by the ball pit?” he answered, pointing over there. “I told her ball pits are for babies,”

“Oh, come on, let her enjoy the simple pleasures.” Huey said

“We should go in with her. She still doesn’t look too happy.” Dewey added.

“Oh, alright. But only because the manager’s watching me over here.” Louie relented, looking into the office at the pair of eyes staring back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said it would be short. It wasn’t super short, just not exactly long either. I have requests for what Huey was doing during the Great Dime Chase. I thought about having the Beagles vs Donald and Mrs. Beakley, but they were honestly almost beaten before the scene changed in the show. And Beakley hadn’t even started moving yet. Also, the idea of the triplets discussing darts, or Huey’s aftermath of being shot had crossed my mind, but I’m not much for shooting scenes. Hand-to-hand or melee weapons, I can see every aspect of a fight as it happens. Shooting is just too quick for me to imagine.
> 
> More importantly, the main reason I started this series is because I had a few ideas for the season 3 episodes so far. I don’t know if I want to skip ahead, though so I started with Season 1. And I’m not sure if I should skip ahead or not.
> 
> As a bonus, can anyone figure out the video game parody without looking it up?


	4. The Impossible Summit of Mt. Neverrest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for this chapter, I only had a few ideas. And now I’m going in the intended airing order since that’s now how it’s listed on Disney plus. I’ve been out of the game lately. Trying to regain the momentum and mojo I used to have writing fanfiction, but it just hasn’t been coming back. Either way, now I’m writing what I have.

With snow starting to fall, Scrooge and the kids were seeking out shelter to wait it out. Huey felt that his uncle was acting too reckless and Webby was getting frustrated with not being allowed to sled yet. Dewey, however, had a different kind of problem. He was getting too cold and was eager to get out of the falling snow. Scrooge claimed that there was a cave up ahead, but that didn’t help him now.

“Hey, remember that sign that said certain death or cocoa?” he said to Webby, who was still carrying the sled overhead. She nodded, curious where this conversation was headed. “I was all in for certain death, but couldn’t we have filled a thermos with some cocoa?”

“You didn’t?” Webby asked, handing the sled over to Dewey so she could reach into her backpack. “I did that right before I bought the sled,” Pulling out her thermos, she poured a cup of steaming hot chocolate and offered it to Dewey. Looking with awe at the cup, Dewey handed the sled back and took it gratefully.

“Webby, you’re the best,” and took a big sip before grimacing. “I should have let it cool down a little,” This made Webby giggle, finding the humor in the moment. Gently sipping the slightly bitter drink, he remembered something that he brought. He reached into his coat pocket pulled out a small bag of mini marshmallows.

“You don’t have cocoa, but you brought marshmallows?”

“They were for snacks, but this would be a good way to use them too.” He poured the marshmallows into the cocoa, letting them melt enough before taking a sip, now that the drink had cooled down enough. “Perfect.” He handed the cup back to Webby, letting her drink the rest of the cup.

“Ooh, if only we had graham crackers and regular chocolate now.”

* * *

“Launchpad, I’m trying to tell you, ice fever isn’t real,” Louie tries to explain while he guides Launchpad back to the man who sold Launchpad his gear. “He was using a double snake oil con.”

“It has to be real. Why else would you be talking about snakes?”

“Snake oil was an old con where a guy sold a bunch of useless medicine for a disease that didn’t exist. Except this guy just pretended that you could catch it no matter what so that he wasn’t held responsible. I’d probably be impressed if they were tricking anyone else.”

“You’re talking crazy, Louie. We need to save the others before they get ice fever!” Launchpad loudly declared. Deciding that it was useless to argue, Louie started to play along.

“Don’t worry, they took anti ice fever shots before we came on this adventure. We just need to get you to safety. Just follow the sound of my voice.”

“Good, Dewey and Mr. McD are safe. Let’s get to the Sun Chaser so I can warm up. Maybe it’ll fight off my ice fever.” Louie rolled his eyes but kept guiding his friend to the con artist who tricked him.

* * *

“Hey, Webby, you seemed really excited to sled down Mt. Neverrest,” Huey said while they were on the plane.

“Yeah, so?” she said, drinking some more of her hot cocoa while sitting next to Dewey, who now had his own cup, each with a hefty amount of marshmallows.

“But you didn’t seem overly content when you actually did it. Was it not what you were expecting?”

“Well, it was kind of fun,” Webby answered, taking another sip from her cup, “but I honestly get more adrenaline just sitting in a plane piloted by Launchpad.”

“Maybe you just built it up in your mind to be the greatest thing,” Louie offered.

“You did put it on your bucket list right above ‘high five a brontosaurus’,” Dewey added, affirming Louie’s hypothesis.

“Really?” Huey asked. Dewey nodded, having seen the list when Webby had crossed it off originally. “If you built it up that much in your head, it’ll never be as exciting as you expect it.” Webby mulled it over in her head, thinking about their words.

“Maybe, but are we really going to pretend there’s not a huge adrenaline rush from Launchpad’s flying?”

“This is your pilot speaking; we are about to crash.” Launchpad’s voice called from the front. At this warning, all five passengers jumped into seats and buckled up. Dewey and Webby gulped down their cocoa quickly, almost burning their mouths, and closed the lid on the thermos. Only a second later, they felt a sharp thud as the plane hit the ground, crashing deeply into a blanket of snow, coming to an abrupt stop before it hit a wall in front of it.

“Okay, you might have a point there, Webs,” Dewey agreed, unfastening his seatbelt, followed by everyone else.

“Wait a minute, the landing zone is another two miles from here.” Scrooge said, knowing they shouldn’t have landed yet.

“Isn’t this the mansion?” Huey announced, looking out the front windshield and seeing the side of their home.

Louie opened the doors to the plane, finding it better to get off here instead of waiting for Launchpad to crash again in ten minutes. The other kids followed suit, wanting to get into the mansion as soon as possible. Once outside of the plane, however, the four kids were in awe, as their entire lawn was covered in Christmas decorations. Lights were nailed across the edge of the rood and wrapped carefully around the bushes. There were inflatable snowmen and reindeer on both sides od the yard (some now flattened by Launchpad’s crash. Even Donald’s boat was decorated, the roof wrapped in lights with ornaments hanging off of it. The kids and Launchpad couldn’t help but be amazed by the work done on their lawn while they were gone. Meanwhile, Scrooge looked more annoyed than anything, since he hadn’t consented to anyone decorating his house.

“Surprise!” Donald’s voice said, drawing everyone’s attention toward the front door. Mrs. Beakley stood there with antlers on her head with Donald, who wore his favorite Christmas sweater. His eye twitching, obviously fighting off the anger at seeing Launchpad having crashed the plane into the decorations he’d been putting up. However, his nephews knew he always did his best to fight off even the smallest bit of temper on Christmas. “Merry Christmas, everyone!”

“Who let you decorate my house?” Scrooge demanded.

“Apologies, sir,” Mrs. Beakley called. “Your nephew talked me into it.”

“It looks fantastic!” Webby declared, looking at the still-standing snowmen.

“How did I never think to decorate the mansion?” Huey voiced, looking at the Christmas lights in the bushes. Suddenly, he felt a snowball hit the back of his head. Looking back, he saw Dewey pretending to whistle. Smirking, Huey rolled his own snowball, throwing it at Dewey, who ducked and let it hit Louie. Louie looked back, seeing his brothers laughing at him. He would have returned fire, but instead, he scooped up a snowball and threw it at Webby, who wasn’t looking. As soon as it hit, she glanced to see who had attacked her. Louie immediately pointed at his brothers, who were running for cover at Louie’s sudden attack. Webby had already scooped up a snowball in each hand and pelted Huey and Dewey.

“Forget the snowball fight, kids. Come inside, it’s time for dinner.” Donald announced, waving everyone inside.

“By the way, Mr. D, why’d you cover the lawn in landing lights?” Launchpad asked, making everyone facepalm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last one was originally meant to be two separate bits, but suddenly they were connected and I didn’t think they should be separated. Please remember to comment.


	5. The Great Dime Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I forgot to mention this last time, but Demon’s Den was meant to be a parody of Dragon’s Lair. It’s an older arcade game ahead of its time in my opinion. Anyway, now on to The Great Dime Chase. I have one idea that stands out to me really. And it might just be one long (not really) story. This will be Huey’s day during Webby, Dewey, and Louie’s day in the bin since it was requested. While I write, something might pop into my head. This might not be my best, but I will still write it.

Bentina Beakley had been vacuuming the living room, finishing up her responsibilities early today. With all the children and her employer out of the house for the day, it certainly made it easier to finish her cleaning responsibilities. She had almost finished vacuuming when she smelled something odd. It smelled as though something was burning but she could not deduce what could be burning within an empty house. Turning off the vacuum, she initially suspected it might have been the old machinery in her vacuum, but once it was off, she could hear sizzling, previously drowned out by the sound of the vacuum. Following the sound, she walked into the kitchen where she spotted one of the triplets standing on a chair to reach the stove more easily.

“Good morning, Mrs. Beakley,” Huey greeted.

“What do you mean, ‘Good morning’?” she asked, calmly walking over to the fire extinguisher. “Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or that it’s a morning to be good on? Or maybe you mean that it’s a good morning whether I want it or not, or perhaps you mean that you feel good this particular morning?” She pulled the safety pin from the extinguisher, ready to use it at a moment’s notice.

“You’ve seen that movie?” Huey asked, looking away from the stove.

“I read the book,” she answered, watching the stove like a hawk. While she didn’t make references to movies or books often, if helped her distract Huey from what she was doing. “What are you cooking?”

“I figured once you were done with your chores, you could use some breakfast. So, I’m making you some fish and eggs like I make Uncle Donald whenever he doesn’t have time to make breakfast himself.” While Mrs. Beakley found it sweet that one of the children had made her a meal, she could tell by the smell that it wasn’t one of his best skills. “All done!” He took a fish out of the pan, pacing it on the plate. Once he was away from the stove, Mrs. Beakley turned it off and took a closer look at the fish, now noticing that there was an over-easy egg on top. Skeptical about the meal in front of her, she set it down on the counter in front of her and grabbed a fork and knife. Making sure that her fork had a bit of fish and egg on it, she took a bite. Huey watched with anticipation, hoping that his meal was satisfactory. Once she chewed and swallowed, she looked at Huey.

“Did your Uncle Donald teach you to cook?” she asked curiously.

“Not really, he hasn’t formally taught me to cook, but I’ve watched him cook a lot and I’ve picked up on it a bit. Honestly, though, he usually just treats us like really little kids and tells me to get away from the stove” Huey asked, still waiting to hear her opinion.

“Alright, here’s your first official lesson,” Mrs. Beakley announced, cutting another piece of the fish off. “Eat this.” Huey wasn’t sure how this was a lesson, but he did as he was told anyway. Once he tasted it, however, he immediately spit it into the nearby garbage can, gagging a bit as he did. Once he was done, he turned his attention back to Mrs. Beakley. “First lesson: Don’t serve something you wouldn’t eat yourself. If you do not have confidence in the taste, how do you expect anyone else to enjoy it?”

“How did you eat it so easily? That tasted terrible.”

“I’ve been through some of the worst torture interrogations before. One of which was being forced to eat scorpion peppers drenched in motor oil. At that point, I knew they were running out of torture methods, but it was still very unpleasant.” She threw the rest of the fish into the trash. “I broke out that night, took over the base, found the torturer and shoved the rest of the peppers down his throat. It was a good weekend.”

“I think Webby once mentioned you used to be a secret agent. I always thought she was kidding.”

“She was. It was never a secret unless I was undercover.” She washed her hands, lathering them up in soap thoroughly.

“Well what am I going to do about the food? I was going to make that for my troop leader to earn my Junior Woodchuck Sous Chef badge.”

“There’s a badge for cooking?”

“Of course. It’s an essential life skill so it’s covered in the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook.” Mrs. Beakley stroked her chin in thought.

“That is true,” She grabbed an apron for herself, along with a smaller pink one usually reserved for Webby but would fit Huey just fine. “Alright, I’ve already cleared my schedule so I’m going to teach you how to cook.” Huey cheered, excited to finally have formal cooking lessons. “First, we’ll start with a simple meal: grilled cheese.”

* * *

One hour later…

Donald had currently been working on putting the roof back together on the boat, seeing as the weather had predicted rain later in the week. Having finished one side, he had decided it might be time to take a quick snack break. He went to the kitchen and pulled a pre-made peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the fridge and poured himself a glass of orange juice. Sitting on the deck of his boat, he unwrapped his sandwich and began to take a bite.

“Uncle Donald!” Huey called excitedly, startling the grown duck, and making him drop his sandwich off his boat, now floating in Uncle Scrooge’s pool. Huey saw this and immediately felt guilty. “Oops. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Donald replied, getting the pool net to fish out his now ruined sandwich. He didn’t want the peanut butter or jelly to ruin his uncle’s pool so he should fish it out fast. “What’s up, Huey?”

“Ironically, I was coming to tell you I made you lunch.” He declared, holding out a plate with a sandwich. The sandwich was a grilled cheese, a little darker than it needed to be but not inedible.

“Thank you, Huey, that was very nice of you,” he accepted the plate with a smile, “but you know how I feel about you using the stove by yourself.”

“He wasn’t by himself,” Mrs. Beakley said, coming out of the house. “He wanted to learn to cook so I helped him.” Donald nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich. Immediately, his eyes widened. The taste was exquisite! It might’ve been the best grilled cheese sandwich he’d had in a long time.

“This is fantastic!” he exclaimed, looking at Huey. “What kind of cheese is this? I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“Monster cheese,” Huey answered.

“Do you mean ‘muenster cheese’?” Donald asked, confused. Huey and Mrs. Beakley shared a look.

* * *

_“Back!” Mrs. Beakley yelled. “Back, you miscreant!” In front of her was a giant glob of cheese, having sprung from a box in the fridge. It didn’t have a distinct shape, mostly just a pile of melted cheese with a mouth and two glowing orange eyes._

_“Why do you keep a cheese monster in your fridge?!” Huey screamed, hiding behind an overturned table while Mrs. Beakley held a large wooden spoon to the beast, goading it back toward the box in the fridge._

_“It tastes delicious and it saves money!” Mrs. Beakley answered, as the monster swung a long tendril of cheese at her. She dodged, slicing off the appendage with her spoon._

_“Isn’t this a little much for a simple meal?” Huey complained, grabbing the hot frying pan from earlier when he had made the fish. He threw it at the head of the monster, hitting it in the eye and disorienting it._

_“If you’re not going to use the best ingredients available, why cook at all?” Mrs. Beakley countered, now scooping off a bit of cheese from the monster and throwing it on a plate. She then grabbed a box from a cabinet, similar in appearance to the one the monster had emerged from and held it in front of the cheese monster. Seeing what he thought was his prison, he backed away, back to the fridge and toward the real box. Once he made contact, the monster was instantaneously absorbed back into the box, leaving no trace but the cheese that Mrs. Beakley had but off, both the tentacle, and the scoop from the spoon. “Good shot, by the way.”_

* * *

“No,” Huey answered, “no, we do not,” Donald raised an eyebrow, but he decided it best not to question it.

“This is good, Huey,” Donald complimented, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Are you going to make dinner too?” Huey looked at Mrs. Beakley, who nodded.

“Yep,” he answered happily.

* * *

Once Scrooge, Launchpad and the rest of the kids came back, they were surprised to find dinner already made and all seats set on the dining room table. Once they were all seated, they were surprised to see a plate of fish with mixed sliced vegetables and French fries. Scrooge took a deep whiff of the food in front of him.

“This smells delicious, Beakley,” he praised, picking up his fork and knife.

“Actually, I made it,” Huey announced, sitting down next to his brothers, who suddenly sported uneasy expressions.

“You made it?” Louie repeated, unsure of the meal. His brother could make a couple things, but he’d never been good at cooking full meals.

“With my supervision, he made each part of this meal.” Mrs. Beakley added, holding a large platter of buttered rolls. “Except for the rolls. I made those myself.” Scrooge reached for a roll and cut his fish apart.

“What kind of fish is this?” Dewey asked, eyeing the main course scrutinizingly. Having grown up on a boat, he’d eaten many types of fish, but didn’t know this one specifically.

“It’s swordfish.” Huey answered. Donald had tasted it, carefully analyzing the flavor.

“It doesn’t taste like swordfish,” he said.

“That’s because the proper term is ‘fencing fish.’” Mrs. Beakley clarified.

* * *

_The fish, alive and whole, standing at twice Huey’s height balanced on its tailfins, swung a rapier right above Huey’s head._

_Huey swung his chef’s knife at the fish’s exposed midsection, hoping to get the finishing strike._

_“How is it breathing out of water?!” Huey questioned Mrs. Beakley, who had just returned with a scimitar._

_“It can’t be slain except by a blade. It can walk years through a desert with no food or water, so long as no sword touches it.” She tried to attack the fish with the scimitar, but it backstepped away, lunging back in to strike at the housekeeper. “It also has the added benefit of having nutrients from all four food groups.” The fish swung its sabre at the housekeeper, who dodged back as well. Huey used the opening to attack again, hoping to finish the fight early. The fencing fish predicted this and swung his sabre at high speeds toward Huey. Mrs. Beakley jumped in front and blocked the strike, resulting in a clash between the two. The fish dropped his blade, directing Mrs. Beakley’s scimitar away from himself, and hit the former spy with the hilt of his own sword. Caught off guard, Mrs. Beakley fell back, defenseless as the fish raised its sabre above its head for a final strike. She closed her eyes, anticipating the end. Before he could swing his blade, a pink apron draped itself above the blade still above his head and pulled the sword down, tapping the fish’s head. Once it made contact, the fish dropped like a sack of potatoes._

_“A sword has touched it,” Huey said out loud, panting from the adrenaline. Mrs. Beakley opened her eyes, seeing the apron she’d lent Huey looped around the sword the fish was holding. He inspected it, finding it had no cuts in it, and put it back on._

_“Take note, Huey,” she answered, pulling herself off the floor and dusting herself off. “Every dish has a different way needed to prepare it. Fencing fish needs to be defeated in battle.” She picked up the fish off the ground, hanging lifelessly from its tail, and put it into the sink to wash it off. “Good work, sous chef,” she complimented, making the young duckling smile._

* * *

“It might’ve not been the proper name, but I’ll never forget the sword.” Huey responded.

Louie took a cautious bite and was surprised to find that it might’ve been the best fish Huey had ever made. He quickly used his fork and knife to cut up the fish, finding it to be tender enough to easily be cut through, even with a butter knife.

“Don’t forget your vegetables, Louie,” Donald nagged, eating some of the fries. Dewey took a bite of the broccoli from the veggies and gagged.

“They need some cheese,” he said, running to the kitchen.

“Get me some, too, please,” Louie called after him. As soon as what Dewey said registered, Huey ran into the kitchen after him.

“Dewey, no!” he yelled. Immediately, there were sounds of splats, roars, and Huey yelling, “Back in your prison! Back in your prison!” After a moment, they both returned, Dewey holding a glob of cheese. He splattered some on his veggies and then some on Louie’s, wiping off the remainder of whatever was on his hand with a paper towel.

“His cooking skills have grown today,” Mrs. Beakley commented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I only had one idea for this chapter, so I only wrote one. Still, it was a long one on its own in comparison. I finished most of this today and came up with the cheese monster and fencing fish while I typed. So, next is the Beagle Birthday Massacre. I have a couple ideas, mainly following the boys, but if anyone has any ideas they’d like to contribute, do tell. Also, remember to review.


	6. Beagle Birthday Massacre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve got a total of two ideas. Maybe as I write them, I can come up with some more.

Huey pulled the nearly empty kayak back onto the beach, assisted by Dewey, all three triplets soaked.

“Okay, we’re back a little later than we wanted to be,” Huey stated, looking at his watch.

“I’m sorry, but that map didn’t make sense!” Louie defended, still sitting in the boat. “It’s all just a bunch of wavy lines.”

“I didn’t ask you to navigate, I just asked you to hold it for a second!” Huey complained. “Thanks to you, we got turned around, flipped upside down and lost all of our supplies!”

“And Uncle Donald might flip when we tell him our phones are toast,” Dewey added, not able to get his cell phone to turn on. “How are we gonna call for a ride now?” Huey looked at his water-resistant watch and realized how late it was. They’d been on the water for almost a half hour thanks to all the mishaps. He glanced around, but saw no one nearby, making him feel uneasy.

“Hey guys, where’s Webby?” he asked nervously, making his brothers bolt upright. They all scanned the beach and couldn’t see Webby anywhere. Huey spotted some tracks in the ground, roughly from where he’d last seen their friend. “Did she leave because we took too long?” The thought made him feel guiltier than he’d been in a long time.

“Maybe she went back to the mansion?” Dewey offered, getting the same feeling.

“But she left her bag here,” Louie pointed out, seeing the orange duffel bag on the shore.

“That’s a little worrying,” Huey admitted. “Leave the boat here with her bag. We’ll start checking in town if we can find her.”

* * *

After searching the town for twenty minutes, Huey saw something odd. Three people, who looked very similar to the Beagles, except they wore French attire, including artists’ berets. The biggest of the bunch wore a blue and white striped shirt while the middle one wore an all-black shirt. The triplets hid around a corner of a building from where they were, keeping out of sight in the alley. Then they’d heard a voice they hadn’t heard in weeks: Ma Beagle, who sounded like she was speaking over a radio.

“The Longboard Taquitos spotted the brats on the south side of town!” she announced. “Make them pay for busting me!” Huey deduced that she must’ve been talking about Webby, considering they’d caught her and handed her over to the police at Funzo’s.

“I think Webby’s on the other side of town,” he told the others. The other two nodded and headed down the alley they were on, trying to avoid the Beagles. Unexpectedly, they ran into the group at the end of the alley.

“Oh, hey, guys.” Louie said nervously. “We thought we’d seen you over there.”

“No, those are our brothers, the Deja Vus,” the shortest one said. “We’re the Deja _Vus_.”

“Wait, you’re both the Deja Vus?” Dewey asked confused.

“No, they just said they’re the Deja _Vus_ ,” a voice said from behind the Beagles. “The ones over there are the Deja Vus and we’re the _Deja_ Vus.” Looking behind them, the triplets saw three more Beagle Boys who looked exactly alike the ones directly in front of them.

“Hey, guys, did you find something?” the first set said from behind them.

“Wait, so all three of you are called the Deja Vus?” Louie asked. “That must be confusing on your birthdays.”

“No, Louie,” Dewey said. “It’s Deja _Vus, Deja_ Vus, and Deja Vus. It’s how you say it that changes which one is which.”

“But you’re right, it is terrible on our birthdays,” one of the Deja _Vus_ said. Suddenly, his eyes widened. “Wait, did you say your name was Louie? I think I know that from somewhere.”

“Oh, look, there’s two young girls running that way!” Louie shouted, distracting all nine Beagles. He pointed behind the Deja Vus, out the alley entrance in which the triplets had come from.

“Let’s get ‘em!” one of the _Deja_ Vus shouted, running in the direction Louie pointed. All three groups bolted out the alleyway.

“Let’s find Webby and get back to the mansion,” Louie said urgently, running in the opposite direction of the Beagle Boys.

* * *

The door to the mansion closed, Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby walking in. Right at the top of the stairs, the children saw none other than Donald and Mrs. Beakley standing with their arms crossed.

“Hey, Uncle Donald,” Dewey said nervously. “How long have you two been standing there with your arms crossed.

“You might know if any of you thought to pick up your phones,” Mrs. Beakley answered.

“But I don’t have a phone,” Webby reasoned, knowing that the defense was weak.

“And ours got soaked when Louie accidentally flipped the boat,” Huey added. “It was lucky that all our stuff washed up on the shore.”

“What?!” Donald exclaimed, seeming to get ready to scream in a fit of rage. The triplets offered up their phones and Donald inspected them, finding that all three wouldn’t turn on. He sighed, knowing he’ll need to replace them. “I’ll have to ask Uncle Scrooge for some help.” Donald may say that out loud, but knew Scrooge wouldn’t loan out enough for new phones.

“That still doesn’t explain where you’ve been,” Mrs. Beakley pointed out.

“Webby couldn’t fit in the boat with all of us.” Huey answered. “We were going to take turns but then the accidents happened, we were lost, Webby had found a new friend, got chased by the Beagles, we found them and then Webby started saying something about being British and fighting taquitos.” Mrs. Beakley beaked before rubbing her head.

“I’m going to get some rest,” she informed, heading up the stairs. “We’ll talk about your adventure in the morning, Webby.” This made Webby gulp, knowing there would probably be some lecture about stranger danger and responsibility.

“You should swing that lecture in the morning to get a cell phone,” Louie suggested quietly, making Webby smile.

* * *

Donald had made hot chocolate for the kids while they sat in the TV room.

“So, what was that about being British?” Donald asked, curious about Webby’s day.

“You had to be there,” she answered, sipping from her mug.

“Oh, that old excuse?” Donald asked, shaking his head. “I thought you were better than that, Webby.”

“What?” Webby asked. “It’s not as funny unless you’re there,”

“Maybe, but that’s really just something to say when you don’t want to tell the whole story,” Donald argued, looking at his three nephews. “They mentioned Captain Lost, didn’t they?”

“Please don’t tell her about that,” Louie said, hoping his uncle would concede.

“Louie, you know it’s rude to exclude your friends.” Donald chided. “Keeping secrets is one thing, but if you keep saying it, you should tell her to keep her from feeling left out.” Huey thought about it and they did say it a lot, so it might’ve been a little grating to Webby who didn’t know about it.

“Okay, I’ll tell the story,” Huey said. “It was about the sixth time we’d ever taken the kayak on the water…”

* * *

_“You said I could be captain!” a nine-year-old Louie whined. “That should mean I can hold the map this time.” Huey had his doubts but wanted his younger brother to be happy. Relenting, Huey handed over the map._

_“You do know how to read that, right?” he asked. Louie scoffed._

_“Yeah, yeah, it can’t be too hard, right?” he said dismissively. He stood on the bow of the boat and pointed to the water while Huey and Dewey, as usual, did the heavy lifting, pushing the boat off the sand. “Onward!” Once all three were on the boat and it was gently floating onto the water, the three cheered as they always had, happy that their Uncle Donald had let them go on their own in a boat. Of course, their fervor had only lasted a short while._

_Ten minutes later, Louie had been staring hard at the map._

_“Huey, how can you read this?” Louie asked, holding the paper to his brother. Huey took one look at it, and quickly realized the problem._

_“You’re holding it upside down,” he said, making Louie turn it correctly. “Let me see it and I’ll point out where we are.”_

_“No, I’m captain._ I’ll _find out where we are,”_

_“We’re going to die out here, aren’t we?” Dewey said darkly._

_“It’s possible,” Huey said. Not long after, a heavy fog had settled on the bay, seemingly from nowhere. Louie had given up trying to understand the map and handed it to Huey, but accidentally dropped the compass underwater, leaving Huey with no way to navigate, seeing as he couldn’t spot the sun or any discernible landmarks around him. They were lost._

_“Why did I give you the map?!” Huey complained. “You get lost going to the mailbox.”_

_“One time!” Louie defended. “And it’s not like you can find our way back!”_

_“I could have earlier, but you were too stubborn because you wanted to be captain!”_

_“Yeah, Captain_ Lost _,” Dewey added, also frustrated with how their boat adventure was going._

_“That’s Captain Lost,_ sir _, to you,” Louie snapped, pointing at Dewey. “I’m still captain of this ship and I demand you two to stop yelling at me!”_

_“I propose mutiny,” Huey said, crossing his arms, Dewey mirroring his stance behind him. “You’re no longer captain.”_

_“Then who is?”_

_“Captain Dewey!” Dewey yelled, raising his hand._

_“As long as it’s not Louie,” Huey conceded, making his youngest brother scowl and the middle brother hold both arms up in victory. “I just need to figure out how to get out of this fog,”_

_“Think we can cut a hole in it and just look through?” Dewey offered, hoping that suggestion would work. Huey just groaned._

_One Hour Later…_

_“I’m so hungry!” Dewey complained. They’d used up their snack reserves early on, Louie calling it stress eating. “Huey, what are we gonna do?”_

_“It shouldn’t take too much for this fog to clear up, then we just gotta figure out which way it is to shore.”_

_“But I’m hungry!” Dewey complained._

_“I told you to pack extra food,” Louie said, trying to relax as much as he could. He knew Huey would get them to shore, but Dewey’s melodrama could be a bit infectious. “You know how I get when I’m freaking out.”_

_“I’m just going to paddle in wide circles for now.” Huey announced. “Hopefully, we’ll see something that’ll help us get back,”_

_“With how long we’ve been out here, we’ve probably drifted off in the middle of the ocean!” Dewey exclaimed. “We’re probably miles from the nearest civilization.”_

_“We won’t know that until we try,” Huey said stubbornly. He picked up the paddles and started to row, turning in sloppy circles._

_“Huey, you’re rowing is terrible!” Dewey said, taking the paddles. “Uncle Donald told us to do it this way,”_

_“The Junior Woodchuck guidebook-” Huey started before Dewey cut him off._

_“Isn’t a sailor,” Dewey finished. “Uncle Donald knows boats better than anyone we know,” Dewey proved that his rowing was much more elegant, easily riding over the waves in steady circles. Huey conceded, looking around them. He still couldn’t spot anything around them but wasn’t ready to give up yet._

_Louie grabbed his canteen, taking a sip of his water, and passing Dewey his own._

_“You know, we should probably bring a CB radio next time,” Louie suggested, finally starting to relax. “If we did, we could just call Uncle Donald for help.” Both their comments about their uncle made Huey think about him a bit. They’d been on the water for hours, so he’s probably worried sick._

_“What do you think he’s doing right now?” he asked. Before the others could answer, all three boys could hear a voice._

_“Boys, it’s time to go home!” Donald called out. Following the sound of his voice, Dewey paddled harder. They figured it might be long, but within five seconds, Huey could see the sand on the beach. “I was going to call you guys a half hour ago, but you guys sounded like you were having fun so I figured we could hang around for a while longer.”_

_“Wait, you heard us the entire time?” Huey asked._

_“You were talking nonstop for almost two hours, but I didn’t listen to all of it.”_

_“We were close enough the entire time for Uncle Donald to hear us,” Huey summarized. “We’ve been paddling in circles in this bay.”_

_“Louie got us lost less than forty feet from the shore.” Dewey added. “Yeah, you’re Captain Lost alright,”_

_“Stop calling me that!” Louie demanded._

_“Captain Lost! Captain Lost!” Dewey chanted, annoying Louie._

* * *

“Fun fact: that’s also how we decided who does what on the boat,” Dewey added.

“You all got lost for two hours right next to the beach?” Webby asked, chuckling lightly.

“ _Almost_ two hours,” Louie corrected.

“And it’s because he insisted that the captain should hold the map,” Huey reminded her. “So now, anytime we take the kayak out, Louie is always Captain Lost.” Dewey thought of something.

“Oh, that reminds me, Uncle Donald!” he said, grabbing a pen. He put the end in his beak, holding it there like a cigar. “We’re gonna be bigger boat.” This made all five ducks burst out laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had that idea for a little while for Captain Lost, but once I got started writing these extra moments, I figured the story would work being placed in here. I had that one and the Deja Vus scene. I figured it would be interesting if the only reason their group names were Deja Vus was because there were two others exactly like them. So, it was between them or the Glam Yankees, but I didn’t know what to do with them.  
> Anyway, next up is The House of the Lucky Gander. I’ve got nothing. Maybe Louie wanting to play Poker but Donald refusing or something. Or him not getting a wordplay joke and Donald fighting Gladstone on not explaining it. But the Infernal Internship of Mark Beaks might be even harder. I might just skip that one. Haven’t decided yet.  
> Other updates, I’m slightly disappointed no one wanted to try and list all the references I used in Sword Fight, Movie Night. I thought I outdid myself with that one. And due to popular vote, I’m going to continue We All Shine On, just gotta work out the kinks first. And I think I might add on to The Vampire Hunter’s Apprentice. I have some ideas going on in my head for it already.  
> Please remember to review.

**Author's Note:**

> First one was a little light. I might add more to each chapter as I think of them or if someone suggests something and it sparks creativity. Anyway, I would like others to suggest ideas for this and for An Unlikely Duo. I did get something in my head for that, although I’m not sure how much I want to use it. I’ll decide later.


End file.
